


Linchpin

by hanktalkin



Category: Dead by Daylight (Video Game)
Genre: Gen, Loss of Identity
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-25
Updated: 2019-03-02
Packaged: 2019-11-05 07:14:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 1,979
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17914247
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hanktalkin/pseuds/hanktalkin
Summary: linch·pin [n]: one that serves to hold together parts or elements that function as a unit





	1. Susie

Susie wanted to die a little less every day. That might have been comforting, if she didn’t suspect that the part of her begging for an out was the only thing that was still Susie.

It was hardest when she was her. _Her_ her, her body, though if she had to stand in front of a podium and declare it to be hers within the full extent of the law, she didn’t think she could anymore. That sanctity had been crossed, double crossed, and pissed on more times than she could count.

> >You’re even starting to sound like me, Suz

When she was Her, it was an invasion, a handful of whispers swarming her mind while she was reluctantly straddling the pilot’s seat. At least when someone else was hunting, she was just another part, a passenger, some distant impression of a once-person who was now…something else.

She pressed her knee to the back of the female survivor—Braids, that’s what Joe sometimes called her when he tried to get Susie back on track—and breathed through a clenched jaw. Braids gasped into the dirty snow, but froze, waiting for whatever the monster wanted.

> >You have a gift from the Entity. Might as well use it.
> 
> >C’mon, I’ve been itching to try this baby out.

She tried to reason. To say she should save it, that she hadn’t even managed to catch anyone else. But the protests fell pathetically, sounding lame even to her.

> >No hon, that’s just us.

In the midst of the foggy hesitation, a knee slipped in the mud, and Braids was up and running. Susie swiped, missed, but something in her told her _the leg the leg the leg_ -

A punch to the knee and Braids was down again, Susie clambering on top, the knife’s movement so natural she might have been doing this her whole life. Braids blocked, but Susie tossed it easily aside, her second swing coming straight down into the girl’s chest.

> >Pf. “ _Girl_.” She’s barely older than us.

Braids stopped fighting. Susie got to her feet, one knee at a time, and stalked away.

She used to be on the debate team. Funny, right? But Julie had gotten into cheerleading, and Susie didn’t have any one else to hang around with sophomore year, and she was hopeless, desperate, for any friends. Something about the way that any thought could be articulated, that every body of work had supporting evidence, appealed to her, and she found that maybe she had a calling here amongst the most tight-ass of the high school hierarchy. In debate, you prepared an argument for both sides, no biases, only cold hard facts and it wasn’t until the day of that your side was assigned for you.

A purpose that required no belief, no conviction. It was something she could get behind.

Things didn’t pan out, obviously. Not because she finally lifted her head above the water and saw that the rationalism they always toted was a farce, but for the sheer fact that she sucked at debate.

She never was good at making herself heard.

Absently, she wiped the knife on her sleeve, her mind buzzing with a dozen different instructions.

> >Three more, still no hooks.
> 
> >Have we checked near the lodge lately? Somebody always tries it.
> 
> >God! This shit’s in my boots! We better go somewhere without snow next time, otherwise I’m going on strike.

She huffed, breath hanging in the air, and wished she could be as loud as everyone else. Or at least, wished her ears would just be quiet.


	2. Frank

The thing is, you don’t become a part of someone without them becoming a little bit of you too.

It’s a natural progression, going for the leader of a bunch of shitheads to the one holding them together, taking charge, making his fingers move with deliberation. Thumb to pinkie, thumb to ring, thumb to middle thumb to pointer. Repeat. It was an old trick he learned to keep himself focused, hours spent outside courtroom halls sliding into boredom even as some assholes decided where his next life was going to be. Now he used it on his free hand, stalking on the edge of the firelight, whatever invisible force binding him to his fan club keeping him from getting too close to the assembled survivors.

> > I’m sorry. That can’t have been easy. Everything outside of your control.

Frank’s mouth twisted into a half-grin, the deflection as well practiced as the square of his shoulders.

“Awe Jules, you’re too sweet. Nice to know someone cares.”

> > …That wasn’t me?
> 
> > Yeah I said that.

The flicker of surprise escaped involuntarily, too late before the rest of consciousness sensed it. Even if he had managed to stop it (Frank was usually good about keeping his mental barriers thicker than the others) he betrayed himself by faltering mid-stride. He played it off with a snort, like he’d told a joke the others just didn’t get, and re-directed their attention further into the firelight. Glasses was picking out a flashlight. Wasn’t that interesting everyone? Better start planning for that.

But, as much as he could trick them into moving on, the misstep kicked over another stone to reveal the ugly reality underneath. The ability to keep their thoughts separate was eroding, no way to deny it. There were things that they couldn’t hide from each other sure, they all knew Susie’s rebellions, Frank’s disdain. But it used to be everyone had a distinct voice, a pattern to follow—now Frank couldn’t remember if it was Joe who had played clarinet it middle school or if it was Julie, if the things he remembered about woodland survival were for researched on the internet or experienced first hand.

He couldn’t remember if he was the one who was afraid of the dark.

It stopped mattering what _was_ , because as everyone blended together into one disgusting mental slurry, memories became reality, and reality became Frank. He was supposed to be their goddamn leader, but Julie’s ambition became so potent in the back of his mind that it didn’t matter the origin, he simply acted on it. The way her and Joe loved him melded into a quasi-self love, and Susie…

Well let’s just say he had regrets that didn’t belong to him.

But good or bad, there was no stopping the force that architected the nightmare they were in. Whether Frank wanted to hold together this group or not, he didn’t have a choice in the matter.

The knife twitched in one hand, his other back to tapping. Pinkie, ring, middle, pointer. One, two, three, four. All leading to one.


	3. Joe

Susie’d said once, “watch out Jules. Joey’s a half can of beer away from trying to steal your man.”

Julie laughed, and Susie laughed, and Joey actually laughed too. Though it was different than theirs, because although the statement was far from the truth, there was still a kernel to it that only Joe seemed to realize. Because he loved Frank. They _all_ loved Frank, even Susie, even after everything. They loved him, but more than that, they owed him each other.

They never would have come together without him; Joe would have kept on living his shallow life, maybe working at that hardware store until the day he died with nothing to believe in. Susie and Julie would have stayed just some girls in his grade, a cheerleader and her friend who occasionally threw some good parties, but now…Over the course of a year they’d become more than just friends. Even before they were Legion, they were a part of him.

He loved them. And love was the most important thing. It was too bad all that was breaking down.

> > Stop it Joey! You’re being cruel.
> 
> > Can it Suz. If we leave somebody’s just going to come by and unhook him.

Joe’s face twisted under his mask. He wasn’t a fan of camping either, but Frank had a point, and he disguised his indecision by pacing in front of the whimpering survivor. Scarf was tougher than a lot of them, but even he couldn’t suppress the sound of pain as a meat hook cleaved through his shoulder.

> > He’s had enough. Please Joey, let’s go hunt somewhere else.

The genuine distress in Susie’s plea churned his stomach, and for a second he was no longer sure if he was the one who wanted to stay or if he wanted to go, if the complaints were in his own voice or not. It’d become too much, both loving and hating himself simultaneously tearing a hole inside him.

> > _Susie_. Shut _up_. You’re embarrassing us.
> 
> > I DON’T FUCKING CARE.

A gasp escaped him, the leaves around him rustling as every tree leaned in to listen to him. He staggered as the rest of Susie’s onslaught hit him.

> > I DON’T CARE ABOUT ANYTHING WHEN ALL YOU WANT TO DO IS BE A GODDAMNED PSYCHOPATH . YOU HURT AND YOU HURT AND IT’S NEVER ENOUGH, IS IT FRANK? YOU MADE US LIKE THIS AND NOW YOU’RE JUST GOING TO MAKE US KEEP GOING UNTIL YOU GET YOUR FILL.

He could feel Scarf’s eyes on him, but couldn’t bring himself to leave, his legs stone solid. Everything Susie said was raw truth, burning like when he was nine and he’d stuck his fingers in the kitchen candle just to see what it would do— ~~no, no that wasn’t him that was someone else’s memory~~ -

> > YOU MADE US KILL HIM AND NOW WE HAVE TO SUFFER ALONG WITH YOU, BUT YOU NEVER FUCKING CHANGE. YOU’LL NEVER GET WHAT’S COMING TO YOU BECAUSE YOU _LIKE_ THIS, BECAUSE YOU-

“Susie,” Joe sobbed, tears falling that weren’t his own. “Please just…stop…”

The voices shocked themselves into silence, accusations that were held by everywhere within and without, forcing Joe to bend over as a fresh wave fell down his face. His shoulders heaved, no longer caring about who was watching, just holding his arms over his chest as he tried to hold himself in.

They were things that he’d thought himself. That Frank had thought. That Susie that Julie that Joeysusiejuliefranksusiejulie…

He keeled over and cried. And stayed there. Until…the last of him snapped.

The final barrier came down slowly, then all at once, and the thing that had been eroding them over the course of the endless night fell away. The many became one, and the tears slowed to a stop. When they finally ceased, Joe’s body curled off the forest floor and straightened itself out, one staggering step at a time. (Some thing was…oh right.) It retrieved the knife, forgotten on the ground, and titled its head in each direction.

There were more hunts to be had. They should move. Didn’t want to waste Daylight.


	4. Julie

The Legion got them all, one by one.

(The survivors, that is. They’d already “gotten” the most important people, haha.)

Their breath came out hot and ragged, an uncontrolled frenzy they’d never let themself experience before, indulging in the full potential they’d been holding themself back from. The knife was faster, their legs moved smoother, the survivors fell like the trees in a crowded wood.

What they’d been working towards had finally come together.

Because Frank might have been their leader, but a unit doesn’t work without its glue. A squad doesn’t hold together without its linchpin. And a person can’t operate unless they reach a consensus.

Legion bounced on the balls of their feet, eagerly awaiting the Entity’s reward for their perfect night. A warm sensation filled them, and they pressed a hand over their chest, feeling the beat of their own heart as the bloodpoints trickled in. They knew no matter what body they ended up in now, the switching would never be a problem again. They were someone whole, someone new.

> > And I am so so glad to be alive.


End file.
